


Given The Chance, I'd Make You Happy

by crazyparakiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Unrequited Love, tattoo artist - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 16:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14597532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: Dominique and Victoire aren't all that different, so why is it Teddy's never so much as glanced Dominique's way? Why is she the one who got cast in the role of sister, not lover?





	Given The Chance, I'd Make You Happy

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta'd, fun rare pair bingo stuff! I tried to do all three prompts from a single square, the very last one I didn't perfectly capture, but I'm having fun so whatever. XD Teen for a little bit of language.

Something about his eyes is intoxicating. Kaleidoscope irises that shift through so many colours she’s lost count of the shades she finds. When he watches her with them, his gaze earnest—searching—she forgets to breathe. A flush rises, filling her pale skin with the tell-tale colour of embarrassment. A colour he reads as something different when he whispers, “Nikita, does it hurt?” The buzzing of his tattoo machine goes silent, filling the air between them with a thick stillness that is overwhelming.

“I’m fine,” she chokes out if only to break the silence. His eyes, almost gold now, appraise her and she’s certain he doesn’t believe her.

Yet...

The machine begins buzzing again. Slicing into her again—stinging—reminding her body he’s holding her now. _Me, not Victoire_.

“Why thistle,” Teddy asks when they’ve finished. Dominique’s ribs slick with the petroleum jelly he smoothed over her fresh, beautiful wound. She stares at herself in the mirror; stares at him through the reflection. Again, he’s watching her with those eyes. Suffocating her in ways he’ll never know.

“To represent my earthly sorrow,” she has a sombre tone despite the fact her grin is all cheek.

“Fuck off,” he laughs, shoving her gently—as he has all their lives—forever treating her as a sister. “Get home, and Owl when you’re ready for your next piece. You’re helping me buy all the nappies my brat goes through.” She’s not. He doesn’t ever accept her coin. Even so, she laughs, pretending she’s happy he’s happy. Pretending she doesn’t look at her nephew with sad eyes while wondering _Wasn’t I worth a glance? Couldn’t I have been the one?_


End file.
